


A Light Turning Dark

by saturdaynightfight



Category: Crimson Peak (2015)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Incest, Multi, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 20:23:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5469728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturdaynightfight/pseuds/saturdaynightfight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucille just wants to protect what she has.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Light Turning Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Risse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Risse/gifts).



> This has incest, is somewhat dubious consent-wise, and has several references to violence. Nothing really out of line with the movie itself, though.

Edith did not belong in their home. Her cheeks were too flushed, her hair was too light and wild, and her wardrobe was too colorful. As far as Lucille was concerned, all of it had suited her perfectly well in America. It was enchanting, even. But they had left America behind them, and now that they were home those same qualities were glaring. Here Edith was far too sharp a contrast against her surroundings. It was almost offensive how poorly she fit in, a bright spot in a place where so much misery had taken place, and where so much misery remained. Thomas couldn’t see it; he was too wrapped up in his new bride, too deeply invested in their act to realize that it was time to come back to reality. He did not look at Lucille nearly as often as he used to, and why would he, when Edith was there and impossible to overlook? 

The resentment only grew in Lucille with each probing question Edith asked. She wouldn’t take the polite brush-off answers, not like her predecessors; too much curiosity and not enough common sense. She crawled around the house like an invasive species, setting Lucille's nerves on edge.

It would all be over soon enough, thought Lucille as she put together the tea service. 

Soon it would be just her and her brother again, their dark looks a perfect match to the dark moods of the house, and everything would be as it was once and how it was always meant to be. Edith’s skin would lose it’s color, her hair would go ashen, and her clothes would turn to dust along with her bones. She would become nothing, just like all the others before her, and the Sharpe family would be safe and content once again. 

Lucille passed her a tea cup and Edith smiled up at her as she accepted it, still bright and polite but a little unsure now, all those unanswered questions and less than polite brush-offs clearly knocking around in the back of her inquisitive little head. Lucille smiled back, thinking of the satisfying crack Edith’s father’s skull had made against the rim of the sink, the memory warming her even though the rooms were just as frightfully cold as they always were. 

///

Their mother's murder had been Lucille’s idea. It had been messy and rushed, and Lucille had paid the price for that, but she had learned from the experience. The ones that died later, to keep her and her brother safe and secure, they had all been the result of careful planning. All of their deaths could be attributed to unfortunate accidents or poor health. True, anyone who cared to look closely enough would find a suspicious pattern, but that's why they searched so far from home in the first place, and why they were careful in their choices. Nobody had ever followed them back to Allerdale Hall to investigate. 

Sometimes Thomas would be racked with guilt after she finished her work, but Lucille was able to calm him without too much trouble. It was, after all, completely her idea, and he could not tell her no. And if he had no choice in the matter, he had no reason to feel guilty. 

This time was different. He looked at her, his eyes wide, his mouth open as if he wanted to speak but his voice was failing him. He didn't need to say anything, though, because she could read it as clear as day on his face. 

"You want me to stop," she said. "Why? She was your choice in the first place, even after I told you to find someone else. You knew what was going to happen to her." When he didn't answer, Lucille grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled his face level with hers. Thomas didn't fight her grip. “You love her, don’t you?” she accused. 

He wouldn’t meet her eyes, which was proof enough. “We don’t need to kill her,” he said, quietly, and her fingers twisted deeper in the fabric around his neck. “Please, Lucille, we’ve brought enough suspicion down on us as it is.” 

He appealed to her sense of rationality, knowing that an appeal to her mercy would be fruitless. “She’s not dim,” said Lucille. “You can't keep this up forever, either. We both know you're no great actor,” she snapped, mostly out of irritation. They both knew that of the two of them, Thomas was the far better actor. Lucille had never been able to hide her irritation or disdain long enough to fool anyone. 

“It'll be fine,” said Thomas, his soothing tone only serving to irritate her further. He sighed when he saw his words weren't having any affect on her. "I thought you were fond of her as well. You told me you were.” 

It was true, she had told him as much after she and Edith had spoken in the park. If she hadn’t been at least a little attracted to the girl, she would have removed herself from the situation until Thomas secured the marriage. But she _had_ been interested, attracted to her brightness like a moth to a candle flame. However, unlike a moth and unlike her dear brother, she had enough sense to know when it was time to pull away.

“Thomas,” she said, releasing her grip on his neck to gently stroke his face. He leaned into her touch, as desperate for her affection as he always was. "We had to find someone, and I will admit that Edith was a pleasant enough target. But we are home now, and it's time to end this charade. Do you really think I would risk everything we have here on _her_? I love you, Thomas. And there is not a person on this Earth I would risk losing you for.” 

She wanted him to agree with her, to say the words back to her, but all he said was, “Lucille, please.” His eyes were bright, and she could feel her blood starting to boil. He had never resisted her like this with any of the others. True, he would always voice an objection - he had a conscience, and it needed comforting - but it had always been a fleeting plea before he quickly submitted.

“You shouldn’t be wasting real affection on her,” said Lucille, pulling away from him. “She doesn’t love you back.” 

“You know she does,” he said, and if she did not love him so much the weakness in his voice would drive her to violence. “She’s not like us. She wouldn’t be here if her feelings weren’t true.” He sighed. “That, and she has nothing to gain from pretense.” 

“She may be fond of you, but she doesn’t love you. Do you really think she would stay here if she knew what we have done? She'd run screaming, probably straight to the police,” said Lucille. 

“She doesn't have to know,” said Thomas. 

Lucille scoffed. “Forget about the murders. Forget about what we did to her _father_. Do you really think she’d stay if she knew you were sleeping with me? How long do you think you could keep something like that hidden from your own wife? She asks too many questions, and she's too clever to be fooled for long. She won’t willingly cover her eyes and blind herself for our happiness.” 

“She won't find out about the murders,” said Thomas, but his voice was so dull and lacking in conviction that it was clear even he didn’t believe the words. "And I can explain to her, about us-"

“Or is it that you plan to just ignore me?" interrupted Lucille. "Forever? Or just until she dies of old age?” 

“Lucille, please,” he said. “You have to at least let me try. She's intrigued with you too, you know,” he said, clasping her hands to his chest. “Please, just don’t do anything until I’ve tried.” 

“Fine,” said Lucille. Let him speak with her, let him see her revulsion first hand, and maybe that would stiffen his resolve. 

///

Given the size of the house and its twisted layout, it wasn't difficult for Lucille to avoid Edith until Thomas came to her. 

"I spoke with her," he said, with far too much hope in his eyes.

"You told her the truth?" asked Lucille, knowing that he hadn't. Edith wouldn't still be in the house if he had.

Thomas flinched slightly at her tone. "Enough of it," he said. 

Quietly, as if Edith might be listening around the corner, he explained the version of their history he had given her. In his version, there was no murder and no mention of any former brides. Just a cruel mother and two lonely children doing their best until their mother died of unfortunate but completely natural causes.

It was a well-spun plea for sympathy, and Lucille had to admit, she could see Edith falling for it. The girl was warmhearted and sympathy likely came easy to her.

“Talk to her,” he told her. "You can make this work if you want to, Lucille." 

Lucille was not convinced, but afterwards she waited and let herself be found. 

"I spoke to Thomas," said Edith. She had a cup in her hand and she was fidgeting with it, running her finger across the rim and switching the handle from hand to hand. Her expression was hesitant, but it lacked the disgust and judgment that Lucille had been expecting. "I realize, now, why you were so reluctant to have me here." 

"I love him," said Lucille. She didn't have the patience to dance around the issue. "I love him, and I'm not giving him up."

Edith's eyes went wide - she clearly hadn't been expecting such an upfront declaration. After a moment she recovered herself. 

"Then I won't ask you to," she said. 

///

Lucille had expected last minute resistance from Edith, some long overdue realization that she was about to commit one of the graver sins. But Edith didn’t protest, didn’t start rattling on about how _this is wrong_ or _we can't do this_. Instead she knelt on the bed in front of Thomas quite calmly, her back to his chest, and she even leaned forward slightly as Edith approached her. Lucille was certain, though, that she saw a flash of hesitation in her eyes as she leaned in for a kiss, and for a brief moment Edith's lips stayed still beneath hers. The moment passed quickly, and then Edith’s soft lips were pressing back against hers. 

Lucille let it be a gentle, chaste kiss at first. She pulled away, and when she kissed Edith a second time, it was much harder, much hungrier. She pressed Edith forcefully, pushing her back against Thomas, and heard him moan at the contact.

The only thing separating the three of them was the loose, flowing chemise Edith was still wearing. Lucille reached across to the side table and pulled a knife out of the top drawer. “It hardly seems fair that you’re still dressed and we aren’t,” she said. It probably would have been simpler to have Edith slip the chemise off, but Lucille wasn’t the type to pass up the opportunity for a more violent approach. “Hold still, now,” she said as she slipped the knife under the fabric. 

Edith didn't look alarmed by the knife. Her eyes were wide with lust, not fear. Thomas was, however, clearly slipping into panic behind her. He did have a much better understanding of what Lucille was capable of, after all. 

“Lucille-“ started Thomas, reaching for her, but she’d already jerked the knife down in one sure stroke, splitting the thin fabric straight to Edith's bellybutton. Thomas sighed, shifting his hands back to Edith's hips.

Lucille pulled apart the torn fabric, exposing the soft curves of Edith's chest to the night air. She pressed a kiss to the bottom of the slit her knife had made, licking at the smooth skin of Edith's stomach. 

Thomas pulled Edith's hips closer to him, rocking up against her even as Edith was lifting her torso to meet Lucille’s mouth. Lucille ran her mouth all the way up to the top of Edith's chest, following the path her knife had made in reverse. She could feel her own blood rising as Edith writhed underneath her, and her fingers twisted around the handle of the knife she was still holding. She pulled away from Edith to put the knife back in its drawer. It was best that she didn't let herself get carried away. 

Edith started to say something, and Lucille cut her off with another kiss. She moved closer, leaving just enough enough room to take fistfulls of Edith's chemise in her hands, ripping the rest of the fabric apart with her bare hands. The material was just barely thick enough to offer resistance, and feeling it give way as she pulled at it was immensely satisfying. When the last of it was split open her fingers still ached for more, and she dug them into the tops of Edith's thighs. 

She wasn't gentle, but when Edith moaned it was clearly from pleasure. 

Lucille paused to listen to her for a moment, watching her chest rise and fall, and she wondered if this was anything like what Thomas felt when he was Lucille. 

As she was watching, Thomas pushed all of Edith's blond hair away from her neck and then leaned down to kiss her where her neck met her shoulder. Edith’s eyes fluttered close, little moans escaping her mouth, and Lucille felt jealousy spark inside her. She leaned forward, and then Thomas was kissing her and not Edith. She opened her mouth wide, wanting as much of him as possible. Edith might be a sweet new toy, but Thomas would always be her favorite. 

Edith shifted between the two of them, her long soft limbs sliding against Lucille's, making her impatient. 

She pulled away from Thomas and then pressed a quick kiss to Edith’s mouth, and then she shifted back to give herself enough room to slide her mouth between Edith’s legs. “Ah, Lucille,” Edith moaned, her breath coming in short gasps as Lucille slipped her tongue inside her. Her thighs trembled against Lucille’s face, and Lucille was certain she would have wrapped her legs around her if Thomas weren’t firmly holding them apart, giving Lucille better access.

Edith pushed herself against Lucille’s mouth in rhythm with Lucille's tongue, and with each thrust she then rocked back against Thomas. Lucille could hear Thomas's breathing starting to get heavy as well - it was a familiar sound to her, one she never got tired of. He moaned, and at the sound of it Lucille reached a hand down to stroke herself. She could feel Edith start to tremble faster, and she was expecting it when Edith came. She kept moving her tongue steadily as Edith reached her peak and then started down the other side, her breathing slowing even as Lucille’s was starting to quicken. 

“Thomas,” Lucille said, her voice rough, and she was grateful that she didn’t need to explain to him what it was she wanted. He gently shifted Edith away from him and climbed off the bed.

With Thomas gone Edith leaned back on the bed, her face still blissful from her orgasm and her hair spread out around her like a halo. Lucille leaned over her, stretching out across her like a shadow as Thomas slipped into her from behind. 

She was already aroused and wet, but the feeling of her brother inside her was so much more satisfying than her own hand had been. They had done this so many times before, and he knew exactly how she liked it. 

Lucille looked down at Edith. If there was any judgment or envy in her, surely it would make itself known now. But it never came; Edith only smiled up at her. Thomas didn’t last for long, not after his pretty young bride had been writhing in his lap since they'd started, but long enough to satisfy her. Lucille came last, and after she collapsed onto the bed Edith reached over to take her hand, holding it to her chest. 

Maybe Thomas had been right. Maybe they didn't have to kill her after all. 

Maybe Lucille would keep her instead. 

///

 

Edith offered to make something for them to drink afterwards, but Lucille politely declined. “Let me take care of it,” Lucille said as she slipped her clothes back on. Edith smiled gratefully and left for her own rooms to find a replacement chemise. Thomas followed Lucille to her own rooms, a look of concern spreading across his face as she pulled out her tray of drugs. 

“I thought-“ started Thomas, looking down at her collection with hesitation, but Lucille cut him off. 

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I'm not going to poison her.”

Thomas sighed in relief. “Then why all this?” he asked, gesturing at all her works laid out before her. 

“Just a little something to keep her content,” said Lucille, letting the liquid drip into the bottom of the cup. She poured the tea in over it and stirred, making sure their was nothing left stuck on the bottom when she was done. “Perhaps a little less inclined to ask so many questions. Certainly not enough to hurt her, though.” 

They would be fine. Lucille could see it now, how they might make a little family together. Thomas could keep up with his machine and Edith could spend her days scribbling away at her novel in her room, far from the basement. And if neither of them ever got anywhere with their pursuits, it wouldn't matter. It would even be for the best. They had enough money now, and they didn't need the attention. It was definitely better for them to stay safely at Allerdale Hall instead of risking notice in any of the wider engineering or literary societies they might be inclined to seek out.

It was better if they stayed safely with her.


End file.
